


An Unexpected Mate

by Bowm8935



Series: Fenders Week 2016 [2]
Category: Dragon Age II
Genre: Fenders, Kirkwall, M/M, Werecats, nothing special
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-02
Updated: 2016-08-02
Packaged: 2018-07-28 22:16:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,526
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7658905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bowm8935/pseuds/Bowm8935
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>From a prompt submitted anonymously on fendersappreciation on tumblr:<br/>"Prompt (might be too complicated.) Some people have animal forms, like weres but not vicious. Anders and Fenris both have animal forms that mate for life. Neither one knows the other has an animal form and they end up mating without recognizing the other. Eventually they find out, maybe because the bond starts extending into their human life."</p><p>Anders has been traveling the streets of Kirkwall at night as a werecat, eventually finding and mating with another. He does this without knowing the human identity of his feline mate, who figures out who Anders is first.</p>
            </blockquote>





	An Unexpected Mate

**Author's Note:**

> Day #2 of Fenders Appreciation Week.  
> I have a vague recollection of reading a book about werecats as a child- possibly a RL Stine one? Not sure, it's been quite a long time. So I kind of based it off my few memories with that. *shrug*

Anders woke up in his clinic, curled up on his rickety bed in the nude. He yawned, stretching out his lanky frame to relieve his cramped muscles, sore from their extended use the night before. Rubbing the remaining sleep from his eyes with the palms of his hands, he blinked, adjusting to the mid-morning’s light streaming in through the windows high on the clinic’s walls.

Before he had the chance to completely adjust, the front door banged open followed by the sound of a singsong voice echoing throughout the empty building: “Anders! I neeeeed you!” Hawke. He groaned, reaching over to grab his robes from where they lay discarded on the floor, quickly slipping the garment over his head. He had completely forgotten they were leaving for Orlais today, and had yet to pack. He stood up and grabbed a tattered bag just as the curtain to his makeshift bedroom was swept aside, revealing Marian standing before him, smile as bright as the sun gracing her beautiful features.

“Good morning, sleepyhead!” she sang, amused look on her face as she watched him pack resignedly. “I knew you’d forget, so I figured I’d show up early to make sure you got ready on time!”

“Gee, thanks, Hawke,” he grumbled, shoving a pair of trousers in the bag. He hardly ever wore them, but it never hurt to be prepared. Rustling from behind her alerted him to the fact she was not alone, and he peered around her to see the rest of the party had followed her in: that suspicious elf, Tallis, Fenris, Carver in his Templar gear (bloody fantastic) and Varric. “Are you all waiting on me?” he asked, cocking an eyebrow at her. She nodded cheerfully, skipping the short way over to him.

“Do you need help?” He shut the bag, shaking his head at her. He didn’t have much in the way of clothes to pack, and she had taken care of bringing the clothes she had specifically commissioned for him for the trip to the Duke’s estate. He sighed loudly, slinging the bag over his shoulder, pushing past her and the group crowding his room. He made sure to grab a few vials of his suppressants, carefully depositing them in his potions belt.

“Let’s just go.”

The group trudged through Darktown after he had shut and locked his doors, heading toward the carriages awaiting them in Hightown. Marian had taken the liberty of making sure they would arrive in style, as was appropriate for a noble and the Champion of Kirkwall. He was less than pleased to find he would be riding with Carver and Fenris, the two people who seemed the most intent to always pick a fight with him. But Marian seemed rather starry-eyed over Tallis, and there was no separating her from her best friend, Varric, so he was stuck.

Sometimes he found himself wishing he had never met her, simply so he wouldn’t have to put up with her sullen Templar brother and the broody elf who watched his every move as though he was going to swell into an abomination at any moment.

The carriage started to rock as the horses moved forward, the trip finally underway. Anders leaned his head against the side of the vehicle, letting his eyes drift closed. He was starting to nod off when a loud voice interrupted him, jolting him awake.

“Why are you always so tired? Don’t you ever bloody sleep?” Carver was watching him, an eyebrow raised. “I swear, every time I see you, you look worse.”

“Well, we can’t all sleep in the comfortable beds Templars get,” he retorted, regretting it almost immediately as he saw the surprise flash across Carver’s face, followed by irritation. _Good job, you imbecile,_ he chided himself. _Nice way to start out the long ride to the chateau._

“Sorry I bothered to ask,” Carver responded petulantly, folding his arms across his chest and glaring out the window. In his corner, Fenris let out a long-suffering sigh.

Anders slumped slightly, contrite. “No, I’m sorry. I’ve been rather busy at night recently, and it’s cutting into my sleep. I shouldn’t take it out on you.” He flashed a small smile at Carver, who was looking at him in pure astonishment. “I’m just going to take a nap, if you don’t mind.” He laid his head back against the wall, closing his eyes again.

He let his mind drift to the reason his evenings had become rather full. Anders had stopped taking his suppressants a few months ago, meaning that he had resumed his nightly transformations. On top of being a mage, he was also a werecat- a creature of the dark, prowling the streets of Kirkwall for both amusement and prey. He was a tabby with fur the same color as his hair- strawberry blonde- only a little larger than the average housecat. Unlike the werewolves, he was not violent unless threatened; he retained a portion of his mind, only his human senses were replaced by those of a feline.

It was unhealthy to suppress the transformation for too long at a time, and so he was stuck in a cycle of taking them for a few months, then going off of them, before starting again when he felt his secret was close to being discovered. Just like mages, werecats were persecuted, thought to be the result of a demon. The Chantry had the facts wrong on this- it was hereditary. He did not recall either of his parents ever speaking to him about it before handing him to the circle, which led him to believe that whoever had passed the gene onto him had taken great care to keep it hidden. He had been fortunate to first transform on a night he was spending with Karl, who had taken care of him and taught him how to make the suppressant.

He had been nearing the time to start up again when he met the other cat. Beautiful with long, black fur and white stripes, the pure elegance of the animal had entranced him immediately. He had approached cautiously, as normal cats held a great distrust toward those of the were variety, and was met with an equally wary stare. Some initial sniffing had unearthed the fact that _both_ were werecats, and the two had reacted in completely opposite ways: Anders had jumped around, rolling on his belly in front of the other cat to show submission and joy at finding a friend, whereas the black cat had simply sat down and watched him, curious and attentive.

After that, they started meeting up every night, exploring the streets together. For as energetic and outgoing as Anders was, the other feline was reserved and calm. A month passed of their companionship before the feelings started to develop. It was dangerous, he knew, to mate in his were form; it was a lifelong commitment, and he had no idea who the human behind the cat was. But as Anders approached his heat, he found himself unable to hold back.

He hadn’t been alone.

He had hidden when it hit, not wanting to force the other cat into a situation it was uncomfortable with. After all, they barely knew each other and it was rare enough to find a fellow werecat, let alone a male who went through heat. He knew his situation was unique, and the fact he had the hormones to send others into a frenzy but was lacking in the proper parts to actually reproduce was enough to cause him more than a little hesitancy. Yet the black cat had found him.

Nothing happened the first night, the other cat steadfast in its control and stillness despite the fire raging in its eyes. The second night was more physical. It started out as a soft nuzzle, a question. When Anders did not protest, the cat laid next to him, simply cuddling. He enjoyed it immensely, content.

The third night they mated.

It was a different sensation as a cat, still pleasurable but less so, more driven by the primal instincts that was deep in them both. As they finished, the other cat nudged him softly, eyes full of what Anders could only guess was love. They had continued to meet nightly, and he found himself falling in love.

It was, quite frankly, alarming.

He had _no_ clue who the cat was. He had managed to convey that he would be leaving for a while last night, and the cat had taken it rather well, if a bit sadly. He had asked to meet him face to face and had been refused, the other suddenly shy. While disappointed, he had respected his mate’s wishes, hoping to find out the truth upon returning.

A full moon was approaching, and while it was not a requirement for the transformation, it meant his senses were heightened, even as a human.

He could _swear_ he smelled his mate nearby.

He opened his eyes again, looking around the carriage, wondering briefly if the cat knew his identity and had snuck along. No, that was silly; it was daytime, he could not be hidden in the carriage. The only other two were Carver and Fenris, as before.

Shaking his head, he relaxed, letting sleep overtake him and slipping into the Fade.

He completely missed the baffled look Fenris shot him.

~*~

They had stopped at an inn for the night, the girls in one room while the four men were split between two rooms. Initially the plan was for Varric to room with Anders and Fenris with Carver, but to everyone’s surprise (and Anders’ dismay), Fenris had asked to room with Anders instead. There was no argument from anyone, but Anders watched the elf with suspicion, concerned about why he would suggest such a disastrous pairing.

As they readied themselves for bed, Anders pulled out his suppressant and drank it down, wiping away the remaining residue from his mouth. He noted Fenris watching him with a look of mild interest, but was unconcerned; he had never hidden his intake of the substance before, since most people assumed the blue liquid was lyrium. A tingling sensation passed through his body as the potion blocked off the hormones responsible for the transformation, and Anders let out a shaky breath as he crawled in bed.

He perked up slightly when he again caught the scent of the black cat, and he sat up, searching the room, a frown on his face.

“What is it, mage?” Fenris asked, his tone lacking the disdain it normally held. Anders glanced at him out of the corner of his eye, surprised, before laying back down.

“Nothing. I just thought I smelled something.” He rolled onto his side, facing away from Fenris. He heard the elf moving around, changing into his sleep clothes, and huffed out a small breath at the absurdity of them sharing a room. The hostility he normally felt radiating off the other man had been decreasing all day, causing Anders to be bemused.

He drifted off to sleep amidst these confusing thoughts.

~*~

Anders dreamed of his mate. He felt the cat rubbing against him, curling up on his bare chest and sleeping with him. It was a pleasant dream, warm and happy, unusual as he was normally plagued with darkspawn whispers in the night. He rested his hand on top of the long, soft black fur, relishing the purrs it drew from the feline.

When he woke up, he could have sworn the scent lingered on his blankets.

~*~

Carver had switched to riding with his sister, leaving Fenris and Anders alone again. Anders groaned when he heard the news; while tension had remained low between him and elf so far, he was full of trepidation that it would change at a moment’s notice. Once in the carriage, he scooted to the corner, trying to put as much distance between himself and Fenris as possible, earning him a quizzical look.

“I will not bite you, Anders,” Fenris spoke softly, eyes searching his face. “You need not be afraid of me.”

“I am not _afraid,_ ” Anders spat, glaring at the man. “I am used to you saying rude and derogatory things about mages-something that I am- and would prefer to not deal with it.” He turned away, staring out the window, anger rolling through him.

There was silence for a few minutes before a hand gently touched his shoulder. Anders jumped and whirled around, eyes blown wide with surprise and fear at the unexpected touch. Fenris was sitting next to him now, regret shining in his large, green eyes.

“I am sincerely sorry for everything I have ever said that hurt you,” he said quietly. Anders frowned; he could not detect a note of insincerity in the elf’s voice, yet he was loathe to accept such a sudden apology.

“Why should I believe you?” he snarled, not reacting when Fenris flinched slightly away from him. “There is literally _nothing_ you could do or say that would make me trust that you actually mean that.”

“Nothing?” Fenris scooted closer, hands reaching up to unbuckle his armor. Anders recoiled from the movement, confusion and disgust clouding his vision.

“What in Andraste’s pyre are you doing!?” he exclaimed, flattening himself against the wall, watching as Fenris discarded his chest piece, loosening the ties on his tunic. His breath hitched in his throat as Fenris tugged the tunic to the side, betraying a bite mark still healing on his collarbone. “I…what? _You!?_ ” He lifted up a shaking hand, running a finger along the bruise softly. The bruise he was responsible for during their mating… as werecats.

Fenris nodded solemnly, watching as the finger traced the mark. “Me. I could scarcely believe it myself, but when we started this journey, your scent overwhelmed me. It took me a while to ascertain that it was indeed from you. So, once again, I apologize for all the pain I have caused you in the past, and hope you will let me make it up to you.”

Anders let his hand drop, taking in a deep breath and closing his eyes, trying to regain his center. He felt a warm hand cup his cheek, thumb gently tracing his cheekbone. He leaned into the touch, inhaling slowly, letting Fenris’ smell wash over him. It was true.

Fenris was the werecat he was mated to.

For life.

He opened his eyes, looking into vivid green, and lunged forward, crashing his lips into the elf’s. He felt the smile that tugged at the corners of Fenris’ mouth before he returned the kiss enthusiastically. Deft olive hands tangled themselves into blonde hair, pulling him in, deepening the kiss. When they broke, both were panting.

Anders leaned his forehead against Fenris’. “I’m sorry for being such a bloody ass,” he whispered, twining their hands.

Fenris huffed out a laugh, pressing a small kiss to the corner of Anders’ eye. “I have been no better. Shall we start anew?”

Anders grinned, pulling back and drinking in the hopeful look on the face in front of him. “Yes, that sounds like a wonderful idea.”

**Author's Note:**

> Did you like it? Did you love it? Did you... *gasp* hate it? Let me know! I'm always open for reviews, comments and helpful criticism.  
> I'm here to grow. :)
> 
> You can also find me on Tumblr as StarlingHawke


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